"Don't think any more about it," said Rupert, kindly, if condescendingly. "I never wished to be less of a friend to you than I was when you lived in Gower-street; but you must remember that you are a great deal altered from the little girl that I used to know."
Kitty could not speak; she stooped and began to gather the presents again into her apron. Vivian came and helped her. He could not forbear giving her hand a little kindly pat when he had finished, as if he had been dealing with a child. But the playful caress, if such it might be called, had no effect on Kitty's sore and angry feelings. She was terribly ashamed of herself now: she could hardly bear to remember his calmly superior tone, his words of advice, which seemed to place her on a so much lower footing than himself.
But in a day or two this feeling wore off. He was so kindly and friendly in manner, that she was emboldened to laugh at the recollection of the tone in which he had alluded to her elaborately-dressed hair and long dresses, and to devise a way of surprising him. She came down one day to afternoon tea in an old school-girlish dress of blue serge, rather short about the ankles, a red and white pinafore, and a crimson sash. Her hair was loose about her neck, and had been combed over her forehead in the fashion in which she wore it in her childish days. Thus attired, she looked about fourteen years old, and the shy way in which she glanced at the company from under her eyelashes, added to the impression of extreme youth. To carry out the character, she held a battledore and shuttlecock in her hand.
"Kitty, are you rehearsing for a fancy ball?" said Mrs. Heron.
"No, Isabel. I only thought I would try to transform myself into a little girl again, and see what it felt like. Do I look very young indeed?"
"You look about twelve. You absurd child!"
"Is the battledore for effect, or are you going to play a game with it?" asked Rupert, who had been surveying her with cold criticism in his eyes.
"For effect, of course. Don't you think it is a very successful attempt?" she said, looking up at him saucily.
He made no answer. Elizabeth wanted the tea-kettle at that moment, and he moved to fetch it. Hugo Luttrell, however, who was paying a call at the house, was ready enough with a reply.
"It could not be more successful," he said, looking at her admiringly. "I suppose"—in a lowered tone—"that you looked like this in the school-room. I am glad those days are over, at any rate."